


Good morning

by SpaceMalarkey



Series: Birth of a Nation [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:31:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5556143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceMalarkey/pseuds/SpaceMalarkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They said it was the work of evil. Of the fae. The boy through differently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good morning

His life had changed drastically the day his father died.   
He had been muttering to the air before the other villagers found his corpse, a ripped mess of limbs, under a bush near the forest entrance.  
They said it was the work of evil. Of the fae. The boy through differently. It must have been those jealous hunters. The other men who always stared at his father with harmful intent in their eyes. Those truly evil men.  
Voices agreed with him. They had started talking to him that night, whispering from the stars. From the cold, the darkness, and the earth. At first he was alarmed. He refused to speak back. Maybe the voices were evil fae after all. But slowly he began to doubt that. They whispered so gently, warned him of danger when the other children would throw things at him without him looking. Eventually he started talking back to those voices. Those gentle soothing notes in the night sky. They told him the other villagers were fearful of him now, because they could not hear them. They could not hear the voices of the earth, of the higher beings around them. And so they feared and despised them, and the chosen few who would listen.  
That is why they killed the boy’s father, they hissed.  
The boy believed them, after all, the voices were nice to him. They had helped him, when the other villagers looked at him in scorn, when their children attacked him.  
No, the boy concluded, these were good voices. Good beings who were rarely seen. Of course they didn't want to show themselves to those who hated them, who feared them. They just didn't understand, the boy told them. They are stupid and fear things they do not understand.  
The voices seemed happy with this. They giggled so pleasantly and the boy found himself giggling with them.  
His mother had noticed him talking to the voices, had noticed him being harassed by the villagers.  
She didn't want her son to suffer the same fate as her husband, and rightfully so. She had seen the look in the villagers eyes. The muttering around the corner of her house. She was afraid she would lose her boy to the villagers, and not the creatures of the forest.  
So she left. Took her boy far from that cursed village who claimed the life of her beloved.  
  
He still talked to the air next to him, but his mother no longer believed he was talking to forest creatures. Most likely the boy was talking to an imaginary friend to cope with the recent events. Losing your father and then relocating to live utterly alone would do that to you.  
Together they had constructed a hut near the edge of a forest by a large lake. Plenty of fish was to be had and they could easily wash by living close.  
The forest also provided berries and herbs, and especially logs and firewood for winter. The boy had taken up his fathers chores and was doing wonderfully. Whenever his mother told him he could slow down, or take a rest, he’d stare at her with a determined expression.  
“I have to take care of you now that father is gone” he would say, and continued with his task.  
The boy didn't stop until he was utterly exhausted, when his mother had to carry him over her shoulder and into bed.  
She felt peace for the first time in many weeks, and she hoped the villagers would never find them.  
  
It had been almost half a year, and the two were doing great. The boy had managed to learn how to fish, and was an expert at it. They would never go hungry, and when sickness was about, his mother would use the herbs to brew a healing drink for sore throats. They lived undisturbed, until one day when the boy decided to go fishing alone on the other side of the lake. He had wanted to try in a new spot because he thought the fish was moving away from their house.  
It suited him fine, he liked walking through the grass, feeling the strands brush against his bare feet gently.  
The voices whispered to him again, suggesting a spot closer to the forest. They had never let him down, so the boy saw no harm in taking them up on that offer. They giggled again, and it sounded like they were fluttering about, like they usually did when they were pleased. The boy kept walking toward the spot where the lake brushed against the forest. Trees were hanging low above the water, so he decided to climb out on one thick branch and tossing his line out there. Like the voices promised with glee, he caught many fish that day, heavy fish too. The boy had yet to see bigger fish in this lake, and was very pleased.  
He climbed back to the grassy ground and thanked the voices, like he always did when they helped him. He never forgot his manners, or his duty.  
Then, something unexpected happened. The boy saw them. The owners of the voices.  
They were so small, dancing on roots of the trees, singing a soft song. He turned his head and saw two on his shoulders. The voices he recognised were theirs. The two small people, one girl and one boy, danced with each other and sang their praise for the boy. A lovely feast they sang, a lovely feast for all.  
The boy felt his head spin, and he felt like there was something blocking his ears. All sound was dulled but the song and the voices. Their giggles and their beckoning. He couldn't turn away, couldn't refuse their invitation. Ha had to remember his manners. It was only fair they get a piece of the food after all. They had helped him find this wonderful spot, to make sure he would never starve again.  
He walked slowly, making sure he didn't step on any of them accidentally. A feast it would be, he agreed softly. Oh, what a feast it shall be. Everyone will have a piece.  
The boy disappeared into the shadows of the forest, leaving his fishing rod and the fish behind on the grassy ground. 

 

 

He could hear singing. He could hear a humming close to him. Where was he? How did he get here? He opened his eyes, and saw leaves. Sun shining through dense forest. He was lying on the ground, he realised. What was he doing on the ground?  
He felt off, like his body was not is own. Or maybe like he hadn't felt his body correctly before now?  
Something big blocked the sun. Something soft gently brushed against his cheek. Something green, something rumbling.  
He looked up and stared at the large creature gently touching him. It seemed concerned. Like he had been sleeping for too long. He blinked, and the creature blinked back. Then it opened its mouth and uttered two words.  
“Little One” it rumbled.  
The boy felt like it knew him. Like this was someone who took care of him. That was why he had been concerned. The big guardian had been concerned when he didn't wake up right away, didn't he?  
The boy slowly reached up to touch the much bigger hand on his cheek. He opened his mouth to answer his guardian. His parent.  
“Good morning.”


End file.
